


Moriarty & The Marauders

by red_dragon95 (orphan_account)



Category: Doctor Who, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crossover, F/M, M/M, Marauders, Marauders' Era, Potterwholock, The Marauder's Map, jily, mormor, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-07 00:16:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6776146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/red_dragon95
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Most know the story of the four Marauders. Peter, James, Sirius and Remus are infamous in the Harry Potter world. But what you don't about them is that they had two more friends: Jim Moriarty and Sebastian Moran. Also both well known, but in a different world, that of Sherlock Holmes. What you don't know about the former is his relationship to a certain Doctor.<br/>This is the story of the Marauders from the beginning, with a few more twists and turns than you'd expect. This is the real story of the Marauders Map.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Carl Powers

The perpetual rain falling down the window does nothing to brighten up Jim Moriarty's mood or the dreary world outside Ebonycare's Children Home. The problem with being in England is that it's always raining, almost a non-ending drizzle that won't stop even as the minutes, hours, and days slip away. It seems like forever when you're stuck inside like he is now.

A car rolls by and the slow spinning tyres splash water onto the pavement. The sigh that emanates from his mouth is almost involuntary. He does it without thinking, and that is his mistake.

The laughter that had been coming jovially behind him stops abruptly. There is a moment of silence before Carl Powers, possibly the stupidest human being on the planet, speaks up.

"What's the matter, Jimbo?"

If you did not know Carl and Jim's relationship this comment would mean nothing to you. Maybe just a peer asking another politely. But, just behind the veil, is the venom that Jim has always managed to invoke by his aptitude of intelligence.

He doesn't answer him.

"C'mon Jim, don't be shy." The comment is followed by a rough shove of his shoulder. Jim stumbles, just slightly, but it is enough to send Carl and his boys into a frenzy of insults and laughter.

"Oh, poor Jim, all alone!" One says with a sly grin.

"Had a rough life have you?" Inquires another.

"Gonna go listen to your precious Bach or Beethoven again to drown out your tears?" The third one asks.

Carl stands idly by and laughs with them. Their snickers fill his ears and he can see his vision is going red. Normally he is much more controlled, but after being bullied mercilessly throughout orphanages in Ireland and then coming to England, hoping for change, and finding none, he can feel himself about to explode.

It is only when Carl, that stupid boy who has eczema but still manages to excel in swimming and got his hands on a pair of exquisitely beautiful trainers, is what sends him over the edge.

"Of course, I'm sure his parents were poor. After all, they only gave him a stupid little bow tie when they dumped him here."

It's just an offhand comment, nothing even too hurtful, although none of the other remarks sting, but it's enough.

Before the other boys can laugh, before they can even process what's been said, Jim turns and slams his fist into Carl's face.

Jim Moriarty is not one for physical contact, nor is he fond of getting his hands dirty or fighting back with his tormentors, but there is an acute satisfaction when his fist connects with Carl's nose. Then there is a sharp crack of bone and a spurt of bright red blood. Carl crumples to the floor, instinctively putting his hand up to his nose as pain engulfs him.

After the initial shock of the injury, his cronies, three well muscled boys that are also swimmers, are quick to react. Two of them pull Jim's arms roughly behind his back. The third, also the biggest, punches him squarely in the face.

His nose immediately starts to bleed. He can feel the hot, wet blood flow down his face and into his mouth. He does not cry out, He does not pull away from the boy as he raises his fist again. It is not in his nature to shrink away from a threat.

Just before Jim has another mouthful of fist one of the adults walks. Ms Ryan, she's never been particularly kind to James Moriarty, but once she assesses the situation she's quick to react.

"Mr O'Donovan!" her harsh voice immediately makes him reel back and the two boys behind Jim's back release him, throwing up their arms in an air of innocence.

But the deed's been done.

She gives all three boys a harsh glare, then watches as Carl emerges, his nose still spewing blood. He has tears in his eyes. Fake tears, of course, but Ryan won't know that.

"Carl!" she exclaims and quickly walks over to him. "What happened?"

He points an accusing finger at the small black haired boy who has caused no trouble, and says, "Jim hit me for no reason! We were just minding our own business and he punched me in the face." Carl breaks down into supposed sobs and Ms Ryan puts a reassuring arm around him.

"James, is this true?"

The tension in the air is palpable. Jim can feel all four boys' eyes on him. What he says next will foretell what happens tomorrow.

With a sense of boredom he drop his head, looking down at his feet in what is presented as shame but is his way of silently planning the murder each boy that stands before him. "Yes, Ms Ryan," he mumbles.

She gives a slight noise of derision and grabs Jim's arm, stiffly. "Well, that won't be tolerated Mr Moriarty, but, because you have a potential adopter, I'll let it go for now." She leads him out the bunk room door. Right before we exit, however, she looks back at O'Donovan. "You will also be punished Mr O'Donovan."

She propels him down the hall and into the bathroom where he's able to wipe his nose free of blood and grab a wad of toilet paper and hold it up to the bruised cartilage. After he's able to make himself more presentable, he is dragged to a small room where they hold interviews. This is where potential adopters meet their potential kids, if the kids can make a good impression. Naturally, with Jim's sullen, dark attitude he tends not be so popular. The door to the interview room opens and he sees who he's having to face today.

His prospects are not good.


	2. Alterations To The World

Upon our entering the room, the man sitting behind the interview table does not move. He has his feet placed carelessly upon the table, crossed over one another and showing off bright red converse that manage to go with his pin-striped suit. Brown, spiky hair that is carefully styled barely moves as he runs a hand through it upon seeing Ms Ryan and James Moriarty.

Once Ms Ryan has made introductions -"James, John Smith. John Smith, James Moriarty"- she exits the room, leaving Jim with a bloody nose and not a clue as to what to say to this man.

Carefully remembering his manners after another second of observation, he holds out his hand. "Jim Moriarty."

He shakes it, gladly. "The Doctor."

Jim raises an eyebrow, waiting for him to finish his sentence. When the silence becomes almost suffocating he replies, "Doctor who, exactly?"

He grins at me. "Just the Doctor, is fine."

Jim nods but says nothing more on the subject. He has met many potential adopters before. All have been stupid, or annoying, or simply childish. But this man is different. He seems... older. More knowledgeable than any of the others. Jim likes that. But he also knows that means he is dangerous. Intelligent people are dangerous. You never know what they might do.

"So, Jim," the Doctor continues after they both sit down and Jim manages to get his nose to stop bleeding. "That's a nasty wound you got there."

Jim shrugs, looking at the red cloth in his hand, "Not really. It was just boys being boys." He gives an unconvincing smile.

The Doctor raises an eyebrow. He doesn't believe him, Jim knows he doesn't, but the strange man in front of him says nothing more on the subject.

"Why are you here, Doctor?" The words come out of Jim's mouth skeptically. He's unconvinced the man's here to adopt, but right now he's not sure what he's doing here. He's not that old. No wedding band on his finger. No signs of a romantic relationship- wait. There's something in his face, in his eyes, that reads as a deep rooted depression. Jim's only seen it once, on a kid who was dropped off at the orphanage by a social security worker because his parents had died in a car crash. The same look was in this man's eyes, perhaps a little more intense. His grief was fresh. And no amount of smiling could hide it.

Without speaking he reaches into his suit pocket and pulls out a letter. Handing it to Jim, he says, "I am here to take you to your new school. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It's a place for people like you, Jim."

Jim raise an eyebrow at the statement and the given name of the school, but carefully opens the letter anyway. A small piece of parchment falls into his hands, and printed on it is his name in very careful handwriting.

_James Moriarty_

_The sixth room, bed number five_

He stares at it, slightly dumbfounded, but his expression stays completely neutral.

_I know that handwriting._

"Before we get there, though, I need to take you shopping for school supplies. You'll need-"

"Why did you give this to me?" he asks in a cool voice. His eyes are scanning over the paper indefinitely, reading the name upon the paper over and over again. Then he finally looks at the sentences dictating his spot in Magical Education.

_Dear Mr Moriarty,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find the enclosed list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins September 1. We await your owl._

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

The Doctor seems a little output by Jim's question but takes it in stride. "Well, it's like I told you, you have been accepted into this school. This letter has been waiting for you since you were born and-"

"No, no. You misunderstood me." Jim glances up at him, his black eyes meeting the Doctor's brown ones. "Why did _you_ give this to me."

"I-I had to deliver it to you."

His exterior is cracking. Jim's voice is cold and hard and he is not used to this sort of treatment to his person. Anger and confusion and joy, certainly, but never something so remote as Jim's voice is now.

"No. _No_." He is boiling over with rage by now. It only took him a few seconds to understand, but it was too long. "Why. Did you. Deliver this?"

"Jim," The Doctor's voice suddenly has another tone to it. One that sounds as if he is speaking to a wild animal. One that's about to attack. "I don't know what you're talking about. Listen to me. I just need to show you where to get school supplies and where to get on the train to get to the school. Let me do that. Please let me do that for you."

"Where is she?"

"I... what?"

He sounds completely incredulous now.

"Where's my mother?" Jim raises his eyebrows just slightly. His voice is completely callous and cold, and his calm exterior seems to unsettle the man in front of him.

The Doctor stays silent.

There's a staring match.

"I don't know."

"Tell me where."

"I don't know, Jim. You have to believe me."

"I don't."

"You have to."

Silence.

"The handwriting."

"What?" Incredulity once again.

"The handwriting, it's my mother's."

"How do you..."

"I have a note, that's addressed to me, from her. This exact name in this exact handwriting. Tell me where she is."

His face visually morphs. The confusion and sorrow and slight trepidation are swallowed by the acute anger radiating from the unknown man before me. "No."

"Tell me."

"Jim-"

"TELL ME NOW!" His voice has suddenly gone up in volume and it is all Jim can do to keep his hands from this man's throat and to kill him right here and now.

The Doctor looks startled. Jim's surprised. He seems like the man who has seen everything. Knows everything.

"She's dead."

"You're lying."

"Jim, that letter was written the day you were born. Your mother may have written it but she's been dead for several years."

"No. The writing is almost fresh, it was made maybe a day ago, where is she?"

The look in his eyes indicates truth. "She's dead, Jim. She died years ago, I promise."

"No...she's not dead," Jim's voice has now reached a pitch of desperation it has never undergone before and he can tell that the Doctor feels his pain, wholeheartedly.

He takes a moment before speaking again, and this time his voice is cracked. "I'm sorry, there was nothing I could do. I tried, I almost-" he barely pulls himself together "I tried."

The impending silence is one of grief, tragedy, and unspoken companionship. Despite Jim's earlier grievances about this man it's clear that he knew his mother better than Jim did. A pity. She could've changed him. Made him something different than what he is today. She could have turned Jim Moriarty into something better.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Would you like to see her?" The Doctor and Jim have changed locations, he's taken Jim to his TARDIS, his time-travelling police telephone booth, and more or less ruined Jim's whole understanding of physics. They had been standing stationary for little more than a minute in seventeenth century England when the Doctor had made the comment.

Jim looks up at him, sharply. "What?"

"Would you like to see her?" When Jim remains silent he continues. "Of course it can only be a one-time thing. If she sees you more than once then she might start to wonder and we can't have that."

"I..I don't-" for the first time in Jim's life it is difficult to get words out of his mouth. "Sure."

The Doctor gives a goofy-grin, then slams down a lever on the console that sends the world spinning.


	3. Ball Gowns

When the TARDIS has finally settled and the rumbling of the vehicle has stopped Jim knows they have reached their destination. It takes a few seconds for the upcoming moment to sink in. He knows that when he walks through that door he will be staring into the face of his past, something he has never dared to explore.

"Where are we?" Jim asks, looking over at the Doctor to see that he is staring at the console with a hard expression. He doesn't entirely approve of this, then.

"London, England. 1885. It's winter and it's snowing. Your mother should be walking down the street in a green dress." He pauses, takes a long look at the dark-haired boy, then states, "Don't startle her."

Jim nods, then turns to the front doors.

The note his mother had given him when he was a baby is crumpled in his hand. When she dropped Jim off at his first orphanage in Ireland she had laid it in the basket next to her son, a memento he has never gotten rid of. The simple black writing spells out Jim's name and the five simple words she had inscribed upon the paper in curly, black ink.

_Know that I love you._

Without thinking he shoves the paper back into his pocket and opens the doors.

The fresh, chilled breeze that awaits him is unexpected, considering it was the beginning of autumn back in 1971. Nonetheless, Jim steps out into the snowy weather and hears his feet crunch as they meet the white blanket that has spread across the pavement of the road.

Immediately he hears the soft tread of more footsteps and turns to see a woman walking down the road. A woman in a green dress.

The dress has a shock of black running down the front, trickling down her torso like ink until it peters out, the rest of the fabric around a bright, vibrant green. The lower part of the dress is completely black and trails along behind her, dragging in the snow. Over her head is a hood, made of the same kind of green material that protects her features from the falling snow. The dress seems to be some kind of ball gown, and from the black heels and black necklace laced round her neck Jim guesses that she's just returning from a party.

The man at her shoulder indicates this also.

The stranger is allowing her to place her hand delicately at his elbow and his person suggests they've met before, but Jim can't place who he is just yet. The strange man wears a plain, beige v-neck under the same colour blazer, and peeking over his jumper is a white collar shirt. Somewhat colourful, striped pants cover his bottom half along with a pair of simple, white shoes.

_It's him._

The thought tears itself through James Moriarty's mind.

He has the same look in his eyes, he holds himself the same way -a sort of jonty-walk that says he owns the world- and the same horrible fashion sense. He's completely different than he is now, but it's him.

A spark of anger blooms in Jim's chest but he ignores it, this is no time to lose his cool.

Without thinking Jim runs up to the woman he is meeting for the first time, even though he's felt like he's somehow known her his whole life.

The couple looks startled, but when Jim stop in front of them they do not run or shout, in fact they barely falter in their stride. Only when Jim stops directly in front them, blocking their path, do they come to a complete halt, the laughter that was on the Doctor's face dying as he does so.

"Hello," he says warily, the look in his eyes says he doesn't quite trust Jim, but his mother is unafraid.

"Hello, young man," she smiles, her brown eyes sparkling, "may we help you?"

Jim opens my mouth only to find that words have failed him and he instead decides to look at her features.

Her hair is a dark shade of black, similar to Jim's, and is placed neatly on her head in a tight bun. Her eyebrows are arched and in perfect condition and her face is absolutely beautiful. It takes another second for it to sink in.

"I'm sorry," Jim finally manages to apologize. "I just thought... you were a friend of my mother's. I was mistaken. I apologize." Jim nods politely at the end of the sentence and quickly walks away. He can feel the eyes of the Doctor on him as he walks. The Doctor is skeptical, but Jim has a feeling it'll be a long time yet before the Doctor realises who he is.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"How'd it go?" the Doctor asks as Jim opens the doors and steps into warmth of the TARDIS.

"She's beautiful," is all he can manage.

The Doctor smiles lightly, but there's a reminiscent feeling to it, like he's trying to hold himself back -not from pain- but from something else entirely. "I know. I can remember her like it was yesterday." His expression is wistful as he looks across the room.

"How many lifetimes ago was that?" Jim asks. He's hesitant for an answer, he remembers the raw grief in the Doctor's eyes at the orphanage. Jim isn't sure if he can handle that pain.

The Doctor had explained to Jim his 'regeneration process'. But the young boy hadn't really believed his eyes until he saw the Doctor's younger self standing in the snow.

"Several, Jim. Several. More than I care to count. I was a young man back then. Still, I remember every detail about her."

Jim narrows his eyes at him. "You sound like you were in love with her."

The expression the Doctor gives him sends chills down his spine. It takes a moment for realization to sink in and when it does the Doctor is already speaking.

"I did love her. And I know you're wondering who your father is-"

"No." He refuses to believe what he already knows.

"I am your father, Jim."


	4. Silent Birthdays

Jim feels the ground sway beneath him. The world swirls before his eyes. Colours mix and he can't make anything out properly. He leans on the TARDIS console for support, taking deep breaths and letting them out slowly.

He finds himself scanning the Doctor, attempting to make deductions but his mind is too unstable to focus on anything. So instead, he focuses on the Doctor's features, rather than attempting to dig deeper on the little things he sees. He looks at his nose, his eyes, his hair.

That's when he notices slight similarities, not really noticeable before, but now infinitely more apparent. Though Jim doesn't share many traits with him, they're there.

It takes several seconds before the Doctor's words reach his son. "Jim, I'm sorry. But you would have figured it out eventually and I thought this was the best time."

Jim stares at him, still struggling to understand the news he has just been given. "Why didn't visit me?" He manages to get out.

"I did." The Doctor's eyes get that that far away look again. "I did, every year, on your birthday."

"I don't have a birthday." Celebrating the day he was born has always seemed very trivial to Jim, it was simply another marking of the passage of time. Nothing more. This man -this _stranger-_ has implied that his birthdays were a jovial occasion, and he is sorely mistaken.

"Yes, you do," the Doctor's voice is a little forceful but there's a slight smile on his lips. "It's on the sixteenth of November. I visited, trust me."

"I don't remember."

The Doctor raises an eyebrow, it's the first time Jim's admitted to not realising something. "I was always in the background. Out of sight. I was the janitor at your seventh. An adopter at your fifth. I was even a sub for a day on your tenth."

Jim flashes back to that day. It was cloudy and the sky had been threatening to storm all day but nothing had happened. When he walked into his English class Jim was surprised to find another teacher, he had assumed Mr Rogers was sick or had some other important duty, but now he realises what had happened.

The sub, who was the Doctor, had a ridiculously long scarf and a silly wand he was waving around. Only now does Jim understand that it was the Doctor's sonic screwdriver, the device that was shown to him when he stepped aboard the TARDIS for the first time.

"I'm sorry that I never came and talked to you, but I did have my reasons."

"Your reasons?" Now Jim's getting angry. He's the god of time, he has no excuses for what he did. Jim thought his parents had died or were too poor to be able to handle a child. He was about as wrong as you could get. "Your reasons were _what_ , exactly?"

The Doctor must have heard the explicit chill in his voice because he proceeds carefully. "It's not like I could've talked to you, there could have been a paradox, a hole ripped in space, maybe something worse."

"You visited me now."

"Because I had to."

"The letter was going to be mailed to me, Doctor, it had my address on it. You could've talked to me, maybe said some encouraging words, but you stayed silent and _watched._ " Jim's voice has risen in anger and his fists are balled and he's about ten seconds from running out the door and onto the chilly, Victorian-era, London streets. "You watched me grow up, watched me fight my battles and get bullied and you did _nothing_."

"I know, Jim. I know. But I have to take you to this school. It's important that I do. You need someone to guide you, you are about to go into a world you've never been in before."

"I'm aware of that."

The Doctor stares at him a while before going over to a lever on the console and pulling it down and sending them off into space and time.


	5. White Fire Balls and Black Cats

When they land the Doctor and Jim walk down the busy streets of London in silence. Every once and awhile the Doctor will look Jim's way with concern in his eyes, but Jim keeps his fixed on the road ahead of him. They are back in Jim-time London, and it feels good to be back in a place that makes sense. Back to normal.

It doesn't last long.

After walking a few blocks and turning a few corners the two finally emerge onto a quiet side street that has near-empty shops on either side. Without looking to see if Jim's following, the Doctor crosses the street and enters a pub that his son hadn't noticed.

The reason for his not noticing is... complicated. It's as if every time he looks at it, his eyes attempt to look somewhere -anywhere- else. It's like his visual cortex simply does not believe that this old, rundown building, _The Leaky Cauldron_ , is there. Jim's eyes _see_ it, but they do not _believe_ it. It's aggravating to him.

After a few moments of Jim's quiet analysis of the building the Doctor comes back out, a worried expression on his face. When he sees his son, he walks over and grins. "Really something, isn't it?" his voice is soft and quiet, it's like he's trying to not send James Moriarty over the edge.

Jim ignores his poor attempt at being considerate and concentrates on the building again. His eyes still shift to a point just beside it, he can't control it.

"It's called a perception charm. It makes your eyes shift to the side of the object. It's simply, really. They call it magic, I call it advanced science. Each to his own, I guess."

Jim nods but say nothing. After another moment staring at the building, they cross the street and walk inside, beginning the journey that will alter Jim's life forever.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

After entering Diagon Alley it finally dawns on Jim how out of his league he is. He has no idea what he's heading into, he's never experienced something like this, nor has he met someone that has. He is going into this with no prior knowledge of any of it.

He hates not knowing.

The Doctor leads Jim through the winding path of Diagon Alley and into a shop dubbed _Ollivander's_ without another word. Jim follows and is immediately horrified at the level of disorganization in the room. He keeps his belongings and the space by his bed well kept, and he keeps his person immaculate.

There are boxes upon boxes upon boxes stacked in rows and rows of bookcases. He can't see anything in the boxes but there are papers scattered around that state wood type, size in inches, and other random things like dragon heartstring, phoenix feather, and unicorn hair. Jim gives one, single, solitary look of disgust, mingled with curiosity, then wipes his face of all emotions.

"Mr Ollivander!" the Doctor greets the man behind the mahogany desk with an air of friendliness and Ollivander does the same as he looks up from his book. "I was wondering if we could get Jim here, a wand." As he finishes the sentence he places an arm on Jim's shoulder as he slides up on his right. Jim cringes away from his touch and slides two feet away from him, effectively putting distance between himself and the Doctor.

The man behind the counter is an older gentleman but wears a friendly smile as he turns to the young wizard. Jim gives him a once over and gives a timid smile back. "Here for a wand are you?" Jim nods but keeps his silence. Ollivander seems to find it amusing and grins wider. "Normally kids are much more excited when they come to my shop." The comment is slightly passive aggressive but Jim doesn't budge in his quietude. "Alright, I won't bug you about it. But I have a feeling you'll be like all the others by the time we're finished." He turns around and faces a shelf laden with boxes and says, "Well Jim, I will be helping your wand choose you."

"'My _wand_ choose _me'_?" he echos, raising an eyebrow at the man.

"Yes, Mr...?"

"Moriarty."

"Yes, Mr Moriarty. The wand chooses the wizard." With a final nod he turns and shuffles around in the back for a few moments before coming back with a couple of boxes.

Ollivander pulls the first wand out of the white box sitting on top and hands it to Jim. It's a nine inch, silver-looking piece of wood. The handle is relatively smooth and uncarved and the swirling leaves around the tip of it give it a peaceful sort of look.

"Try it out."

Jim gives it a precarious wave and sparks immediately fly from the end towards Ollivander. He ducks, narrowly avoiding getting his face badly burned, and they watch as the colourful sparks fly and hit a stack of boxes, forcing them to topple over and scatter on the floor. Jim carefully hands the wand back to him, holding it at the end as if he's holding a bomb that could detonate at any moment.

Now Jim knows why it's so unorganized in here. Why bother to organize it when some kid is going to wave a wand and destroy all your hard work?

Ollivander smiles at him. "Going to be tricky are we?"

Jim laughs nervously, he has no idea what's going on, and he's not sure he wants to handle magic. Yeah, it could be incredibly helpful or make an extraordinary weapon, but one misstep and James Moriarty could be blown sky high.

From the stack, Ollivander pulls out a black box, and delicately hands Jim the wand that was inside of it. It's jet black and incredibly straight and stiff. Upon closer inspection the wood seems to be hickory and the base is a smooth as it can be. The only colour on it is the light blue flames swirling up and around the tip, making it look as if fire has come from the wielder's hand and is eating up the wand itself. It's an exquisite piece of work.

Ollivander nods at Jim, then takes a step back, and the young boy waves it.

The light that emits from it is white and extremely hot. They can feel it burn their skin. It's a ball of white, hot fire and only when it suddenly seems to collapse in on itself and turn the room dark does Jim dare to let himself grin. The wand feels warm in his hand, as if it recognizes his touch and welcomes it.

"Well," Mr Ollivander beams at him, "it seems we have found your wand, Mr Moriarty."

Jim can feel the Doctor directly behind him as he speaks, "That was quite something, Jim."

"Extraordinary," Ollivander nods.

"What type is it?"

"Hickory and dragon heartstring, Mr Smith. Ten inches."

The Doctor nods and pays for the wand, but just as the two are walking out Ollivander grips Jim by his forearm and forces him to stop in his tracks.

"That was something I've never seen before, Mr Moriarty. You are going to do great things. I know it."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As they exit the shop, Jim notices that the number of people present in the road has dwindled and he can actually see in the shop windows now. There are all sorts of things ranging from weird to simply unimaginable. There are cauldrons, brooms, parchment, spell books, potions and... toads?

As they pass a shop that has a polished looking broom on display, Jim can't help but stop and look at it a little disdainfully. He was half-hoping that the whole witches-ride-on-brooms myth would be fiction, apparently even James Moriarty gets his hopes up. "Brooms, Doctor? Really?"

The Doctor sidles up next to his son and looks in at the broomstick labeled _Nimbus_. "Oh, yes, those. First years aren't allowed to have them, too many injuries and such, but they're used for a lovely game called Quidditch."

Jim raises an eyebrow. "How do you play?"

"Fourteen players, two teams, one field, and four balls. It's complicated. You'll learn though, don't worry."

Something catches Jim's eye and he turns to see a sleek, black cat with emerald green eyes staring directly at him. The Doctor follows his gaze and grins. "He's a handsome lad," the older man comments.

"It's a girl."

"How can you tell?"

"I just can."

He stares at Jim but doesn't bother to ask again, instead he clears his throat and says, "You know I could get her for you. You are allowed a pet in the dormitory."

"Really?" Jim can't help the eagerness that appears in his voice. His only bits of happiness the whole day had been seeing his mother -who hadn't even known who he was- and a bloody cat. Jim clears his throat and speak again. "Really?"

The Doctor chuckles and nods. "You know, Jim, it is okay to show emotion now and then, you don't have to be a sociopath."

The young boy nods and gestures to the cat. "Will you buy it for me? I can pay you back, I know I have around a hundred quid under my mattress back at the orphanage."

He shakes his head. "No, I couldn't possibly let you pay for it, I'm your father, Jim."

The Doctor walks into the store and goes to talk to a lady at the desk. He leaves Jim outside on the street, allowing him to think about his last statement.

_The fact that he didn't visit me as a child, the fact that he didn't keep me in the bloody TARDIS when I was a child angers me deeply. From what I could work out he doesn't usually travel alone, almost always has a companion with him. Why couldn't he just leave me in the TARDIS? Perhaps with a companion? Or maybe leave me with my mother like any normal person? The thought had clearly never crossed his mind._

Jim's anger rises but he quickly swallows it as he sees the Doctor come out, the cat in a crate, its black fur standing on end.

As he hands Jim the cage the fur on her back lies flat and she stares at Jim again, then looks away and curls up at the bottom of the crate. The Doctor grins at her and looks down at his son. "She's wonderful."

Jim nods. It takes several moments for the next words to come out. "Thank you."


End file.
